WATERSHED- the morning after
by abbyfillion22
Summary: Season 6 episode 1- If you like this story, leave a review and I will turn it into a chapter fic although I'm extremely hesitant about the entire scenario.
1. Chapter 1

She wakes in a strange city with a stranger in her bed. The bright morning light seeps through the curtains and burns her eyes. She sits up, and instantly has to lie down again. Her head pounds and she fells a dry lump in her throat.

What happened last night? She wonders. Her hangover clouds her thoughts and she can't see clearly. She rubs her head and thinks about yesterday.

"Katherine Houghton Beckett, will you marry me?" he had asked her.

She had only stared at him. Did he just say what she thought he just said? This wasn't what she wanted. She loved him, she knew that, but she wasn't ready for that.

His eyes were filled with tears; in danger of spilling over. She had to look away; she couldn't bear the sight of him crying.

She never gave him an answer; just left him kneeling there as she walked out of the park.

The next thing she knew, she was on a one-way flight to DC; her only companion was a small carry-on and a bottle of Smart Water that she sipped absent-mindedly on the plane.

Later, she swapped the clear plastic bottle for a green glass one. She drank away her feelings; going numb to the world. _All you do is hurt people,_ she repeated over and over to herself as she downed drink after drink.

And now, the morning after, there was a man in her bed, and it wasn't Rick Castle.

She sat up, wrapping the sheet around her torso. As she looked at the guy next to her, she was suddenly utterly disgusted with herself. What had she done?

They were in a run-down motel. The ceiling was slightly concaved and the carpet was stained with God knows what.

The walls were covered in faded floral wallpaper that peeled at the corners. The flowers danced before her eyes as the effects of the alcohol disturbed her vision.

She had no recollection of being with the stranger, only that he bought her three drinks before escorting her out of the bar. Before that, she had already had two, which explains her horrible headache.

She swings her legs off the edge of the bed and finds her clothes, scattered around the room along with some male articles.

It takes her some time, but eventually she locates her shoes under the bed. She dresses and checks herself in the cracked mirror next to the door.

Her hair is disheveled and her eyes are bloodshot. Her day old mascara is smudged under her eyes and one of her diamond earrings is missing. She's a beautiful mess; like her life.

She shrugs, and tiptoes out of the room, shoes in hand.

The greasy motel manager gives her a judgmental stare as she passes as if saying, 'I know what you did last night, you slut.'

She doesn't care, he's right. She deserves to be judged as so. She deserves to be frowned upon. She keeps her head down, the walk of shame ending when she climbs into a cab.

The driver turns and says something to her, but she doesn't hear it. She keeps staring blankly ahead at the road.

"Huh?" she asks her voice hoarse.

"I said, where to?" said the driver.

She blinks at him. _Good question_, she thinks. "Um…"

The driver taps his fingers impatiently against the wheel.

She digs in the pockets of her jacket, coming up with a slip of paper with the address of her new apartment. She hands it to him and he puts it into his GPS.

Ten minutes and ten dollars later, the cab pulls up in front of her building.

She slips into her shoes and stumbles out of the cab, the light piercing her eyes like tiny needles. People stop and stare at her, making it clear that she's not in New York anymore and her strange actions don't go unnoticed. She shuts her eyes and gets her bearings.

With great effort, she makes it up the five flights of stairs and into her apartment. It's empty except for a mattress in the middle of the room and the bag she brought from New York.

She sits down with a sigh; her back pressed against the door, and began to weep. She pushed her hair from her face and lets the tears fall into her lap.

She didn't think it was possible to mess your life up as much as she had in less than twenty four hours.

She stays like this for what felt like eternity, crouched in the doorway and sobbing.

She half expected Rick to knock on the door; to pick her up and hold her tight and tell her it was all going to be okay. But she knows that he won't. She has hurt him far too many times before, and now she's pushed him away forever.

Eventually, she composes herself, knowing that she has to go to work soon.

She goes into the bathroom and turns the shower head on; pushing the dial the coldest it can go. The freezing water feels good; letting her know that she is still alive; that she can still feel _something_.

She dries herself off and gets redressed. It feels strange not strapping her NYPD badge onto her belt. She fingers the place it would have been on an ordinary day.

On an ordinary day, she would wake up next to Rick. He would make her coffee and they would drive to the 12th together. On an ordinary day, Rick would kiss her on the lips and tell her he loved her.

She blinks and keeps moving; trying to distract herself from thoughts of Castle, but everything reminds her of him. She couldn't look at her hands without feeling a pang of sadness, thinking about how his hand fit in hers so perfectly.

She takes a cab to her new job where she is put through orientation. She doesn't comprehend anything, moving in a fog, lost in her thoughts.

She gets things done, but never really knowing what she is doing. Once, she turned around and said, "Castle-"

But he wasn't there; only a room full of government agents that neither knew or cared about her.

Plenty of people approached her that day, trying to get to know the new agent.

"So where are you from?" an attractive male co-worker would ask her, standing a little too close.

"I love your hair," a cute young intern would say with a cheery smile.

She would brush them off, mumbling a short answer, not really having paid attention to what they had said.

She went "home" that day, knowing that she would never be whole without Castle by her side. He was a part of her life as much as her job was. Why did she have to choose one or the other? Why couldn't she have both?

_C'est la vie_, she thought bitterly.

* * *

_We both wake in lonely beds_

_And different cities._

_And time is taking its sweet time erasing you._

_And you've got your demons_

_And darling, they all look like me._

_-Sad Beautiful Tragic_


	2. Chapter 2

He's frozen in place; staring at the empty swing. _That's it_, he thinks, _it's over_.

The _least _she could have done was say no, yet she couldn't even manage that one word that would save him from hours of analyzing her actions.

He closes the box with a sharp snap and stands; his knee cracking on the way up. He wipes his brow with the back of his hand and sniffs loudly, trying to keep his emotions from spilling over.

_She doesn't need you, Rick. You were just fooling yourself thinking you could tie her down. _ He backs slowly away from the swings, finally able to tear his gaze away when the back of his heel hits the wood planks bordering the playground.

_You don't need her either; you'll be okay_, he tries to convince himself. He knows he's lying, trying to protect himself from the harsh truth that he'll never be okay without her.

That night, he goes to the bar and sits alone. He sips a scotch and watches the happy people around him.

A tall blonde woman approaches him. "Hey," she says.

He sets his glass down and turns to her. "Hi, Rick Castle," he replies, offering his hand and a sad smile. He buys her a drink and they talk about life. He carefully dodges around mentioning _her._ He knows that if he did, he would lose it.

Next thing he knows, he's in her bed.

_See, Rick? You're fine without her, _he keeps lying to himself.

When he's through, he lies gasping for breath next to the woman. What was her name again?

She mutters something under her breath.

"What?" he asks her.

"My name's not Kate," she repeats.

He realizes that he had called out her name as he climaxed. "Kate," he had groaned into the woman's ear. "Oh God, Kate."

He's filled with a gut wrenching sadness as he lays there in silence; the only sound is their heavy breathing. He pushes himself to the edge of the bed so he doesn't have to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry," he says, looking over his shoulder.

"Just leave," she says quietly, rolling onto her side.

He pulls his clothes on and lets himself out.

_What the hell is wrong with you? _He scolds himself as he steps outside into the brisk night air. He nods to the doorman who hails him a cab. _She hasn't been gone a day and already you're slipping back into your old ways. _A single tear rolls down his eye as he slides into the taxi.

"Where to?" asks the driver.

He thinks for a moment then says, "JFK airport."

* * *

_She's all laid up in bed with a broken heart,_

_While I'm drinking jack all alone at the local bar_

_And we don't know how; how we got into this mad situation,_

_Only doing things out of frustration,_

_Trying to make it work, but man these times are hard._

_She needs me now but I can't seem to find the time,_

_Got a new job now in the unemployment line,_

_And we don't know how; how we got into this mess, is it God's test?_

_Someone help us cause we're doing our best,_

_Trying to make it work, but man these times are hard._

_But we're gonna start by drinking old cheap bottles of wine,_

_Sit talking up all night,_

_Saying things we haven't for a while._

_We're smiling but we're close to tears,_

_Even after all these years,_

_We just now got the feeling that we're meeting FOR THE FIRST TIME._

_-_The Script


	3. Chapter 3

"You realize what a huge opportunity you've been given," says Agent Stack.

She nods solemnly. She's standing in his office after giving him her letter of resignation. Stack's office, like everything else in the Attorney General's building is cold and crisp; all of the furniture has strange sharp edges that make everything feel intense and focused. It's a complete contrast to how she feels inside.

Stack shakes his head in disbelief. "Beckett, you've been here for two days. Are you sure you don't want to stick it out a while longer? I promise, it gets better once you get into-"

"Sir, I'm sorry but I've made up my mind. This job just isn't for me," she assures him. She unclips her ID badge from her shirt and hands it to him.

He reluctantly takes it, tapping it against his fingernails and sighs. "I saw great potential in you, Beckett. I pulled a lot of strings to get you this position."

She bites her lip. "I know, and I appreciate your effort, but to be honest, I'll be of no use. There's some things going on that I need to sort out and I can't do it here."

He nods, understanding. "It's him isn't it, the writer guy?"

She takes a sharp breath; she had hoped to avoid the topic. She breaks her solid eye contact from Stack and stares down at her shoes, her cheeks growing warm.

"I didn't mean to intrude," he says quickly, moving out from behind his desk.

She shakes her head, moving her hair from her face. "No, it's fine… no, yeah, you're right. It's… complicated." She couldn't think of a better word to describe the situation. In truth, it really wasn't complicated. In fact, it was quite simple. She was afraid of letting people in, and she pushed away the ones who got too close. The only complicated part was how she was going to get Castle to forgive her.

Agent Stack holds out his hand. "Well it was a pleasure working with you, Detective Beckett, for how ever brief of time."

She takes his hand. "You too," she says with a small smile.

He circles his desk and sits down again, folding his hands on the desk. "Maybe sometime in the future you'll consider coming back to work with us. We can always use agents like you."

She gives him a curt nod and moves to leave. "Thank you, sir."

She's halfway out the door when he calls to her. "Beckett?"

She sticks her head back in. "Sir?"

"I hope things work out," he says kindly.

"Me too," she replies quietly, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

She packs up what little belongings she has and orders a ticket back to New York. She chooses the round trip plane, flying from JFK to Washington National and back again.

She walks briskly through the airport, her carry on slung over her right shoulder. She sits down in the docking area and watches as the American Airlines plane pulls into the terminal. It will be another hour before her flight, giving the plane time to refuel.

She pulls out her cell phone and dials Rick. It rings once then goes straight to voicemail. He had denied her call, which she didn't blame him for doing.

She sighs and sinks back in her seat, putting her earbuds in and blasting the latest Script song.

She doesn't even notice when Castle comes out of the tunnel and sits down across the room from her.

* * *

He keeps his head down as he steps into the airport. There's a fan above the entrance that hits him with a cold blast and makes him shiver. He's tired, so he sits down in a seat next to the big window.

He watches other planes take off and land and the tiny runway workers driving carts full of bags. He turns his cell phone back on, which was turned off during the flight. As he waits for it to start up, he looks around him.

Tons of people sit waiting for the plane he had just gotten off of. A little girl lies with her head in her mother's lap, sucking her thumb and snoozing. The man next to her runs a wrinkled hand through his hair and swipes a finger across the screen of an eReader. A baby cries from somewhere to his right and his father shushes him.

As he scans the room, his gaze lands on a woman sitting by the far wall. He can only see the back of her head, but she has light brown hair exactly like Kate's. He shakes his head. Over the past few hours, _everything _reminded him of Kate. This was just another one of those times.

His phone vibrates in his hand and he sees that he has one missed message from her.

He crosses his legs and calls her.

His heart jumps in his chest as a phone rings loudly across the room. _It's just a coincidence, _he says to himself.

The ringing stops right as Kate picks up.

"Hey," she says.

He stands up and looks over at her. The woman he had noticed before now had a phone up to her ear.

"Hello?" she says again.

He drops the phone on the chair and yells, "Kate!"

She whips her head around and her jaw goes slack when she sees him. She slowly stands and puts her phone in her jacket pocket.

People turn and stare at him, but he doesn't care.

"Rick," he can see her whisper in awe.

"Kate," he mutters again, suddenly feeling himself crying.

She stands there for what feels like eternity, just staring in disbelief.

Then, she breaks into a run, covering the space between them in seconds.

He opens his arms and she throws herself into them, sobbing against his shoulder.

He can feel her shaking and he buries his face in the sweet smell of her hair. He missed the cherry scent and he savored it; taking in all that he could.

"I'm so sorry," she cries.

He squeezes her tighter. "It's okay."

She pulls away from him. "No it's not. I…" she trails off.

He wrinkles his brow, realizing that something else must have happened. "What?"

She tilts her head and the corners of her lips turn downwards. "I slept with someone else," she whispers.

He takes a step back, pulling her arms off of his back. They fall loosely at her sides. "You what?"

Her face is filled with hurt and anguish and pain all at the same time. "I'm so sorry, Rick. I was so drunk and… If you never want to see me again, I understand. I just… I wanted to tell you how sorry I am."

He stares at her blankly. "No, I'm the one who's sorry."

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do _anything_," she says to him.

"I'm sorry that I came after you. I'm sorry that I got my hopes up only to have you twist the knife over and over again. I'm sorry that I ever thought that we would grow old together and have kids and that you would never, ever hurt me like this," his voice gradually grew louder in crescendo. Everyone was staring at them now and whispering. "And you want to know something else, Kate? I slept with someone too! She fucked my brains out last night but all I could think about was _you."_

There was an obvious shift in the crowd as parents covered their children's ears.

He ignored them; his full attention on her. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, Kate, because I love you so damn much, but you don't _see _that!" He punctuates this by pulling at his hair in frustration. "You've _never _seen that. You have _no idea _how much I love you! I love you so much, it _hurts,_ Kate, it literally _hurts." _His eyes sting with tears, but somehow he manages to hold them in.

Someone grabs him from behind.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to come with me," says a security guard. "You too," he says to Kate.

He takes them both roughly by the arm and escorts them away. Neither of them resists as they're put into separate holding cells in the basement level of the airport.

The security guard pins his hands behind him and fixes him with zip ties. He does the same to Kate and then shuts the door with a loud clang. He then leaves but before he does, he whispers, "good luck, pal," to him.

He sits down on the right end of a small metal bench. There's one on the other side of the wire fence that separates their cells.

Kate sits on the right side of her own bench so they're facing opposite walls and as far away from each other as possible without falling off.

They sit there in silence for a solid minute before she says, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I have nothing to say to you," he growls.

She turns around, the zip ties digging into her thin wrists. He's still staring at the wall with his head rested against the wire. "See, this is exactly our problem," she says angrily.

"What?" he mutters, shutting his eyes.

"We don't _talk. _ We make small talk, but other than that, it's just sex! We avoid talking about the important things that are bothering us and then we wind up fighting about it later instead of working it out," she says.

He turns to face her. "I'm not the one with the talking issue in our relationship," he retorts.

"It takes two, Rick."

He huffs and slams his back against the barrier. "I'm not mad at you Kate-"

She sighs and shakes her head. "Then what are we doing?"

"I don't know," he says staring at his knees. "We're working things out."

"Why do we have to do it this way?" she says. "Why can't it be easy?"

He looks into her eyes. "Because love is never easy," he says, barely audible.

She bites her lower lip.

"I'm not mad at you, Kate…" he begins calmly. "I'm mad at myself. I cheated-"

"So did I."

"But I wasn't drunk," he insists. "How do I justify myself?"

She thinks for a moment. "You can't. Neither can I, it is what it is."

"I'm sorry," he says after a while.

"Me too," she says.

They sit there staring at each other.

Then, she slides down the bench and presses her back to the barrier. She moves her fingers through the wire and finds his hands. They lock fingers and just stay there. It's awkward sitting this way because of the zip ties, but they are both comforted by the other's touch.

"What do we do now?" he says quietly.

She shakes her head. "I guess what we have is broken."

He squeezes her fingers and says, "No, not broken; just bent. And we can always fix bent, right?"

She smiles. "Always."

* * *

_Just give me a reason,_

_Just a little bit's enough,_

_Just a second we're not broken,_

_Just bent,_

_And we can learn to love again._

_It's in the stars;_

_It's been written in the scars on our hearts;_

_We're not broken,_

_Just bent,_

_And we can learn to love again._

_-P!nk_


End file.
